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Chapter Four
Iought to ask why he’s the one following me.Rose kept her irritated thoughts to herself as she ambled along at this stranger’s side. Even when her father had been at the peak of his business endeavors, she had not encountered too many noble men and women. However, those she had met had been genteel and respectful, unlike this cruel-tongued rogue. Worse still, she did not know what she had done to offend him.
“Might I ask your name, at least?” she muttered, reluctantly. He did not even look at her. Indeed, she began to wonder if he had heard her.
“Lord Langston,” he replied bluntly, after several minutes. “But I would urge you to forget it. I doubt you and I are destined to cross paths again.”
Are you generally hateful, or is it just me you don’t like?She fixed her eyes on the path ahead, brimming with confused annoyance. She had a feeling it might have been better if she had not turned back in the alley and bumped into him again. Then, she would have been permitted to keep the fantasy of her mysterious hero, who had come out of nowhere to save her life. The reality was becoming less gallant by the second.
However, she did not have to dwell on his cold behavior much longer, for another, far worse unpleasantness awaited her outside the entrance to the gambling hall. Her father, Bill Parker, leaned up against the wall. He swayed slightly, cursing loudly at his own shadow.
“Where is the little harpy?” Her father hiccupped and drew a few amused chuckles and stares from some nearby revelers. Naturally, in his obviously drunken stupor, he could not let such insults pass. “What are you looking at? I was making my fortune while you were all still hanging off your mother’s teat!”
Rose shook her head in humiliation at the state of him. His shirt was untucked, his trousers stained, his jacket missing the patch on his right elbow that she had darned for him. To add to the horror, a trickle of something viscous and yellowed ran down his chin from the corner of his mouth.
“I will bid you farewell, My Lord.” She emulated his lack of eye contact and pressed on ahead of him to intercept her father before he could lash out at the revelers who continued to sneer at him. He did not follow, nor did she see where he went, but she supposed he must have taken the side entrance into the building to avoid being associated in any capacity with the unruly Bill Parker.
She drew in a breath and approached her father with caution, as one might approach a feral dog that was foaming at the mouth. “Pa?” She put a gentle hand on his arm, ready to snatch it back if he tried to swipe at her.
His bleary eyes locked on hers. “There you are, you wretched viper. I thought I told you to hurry over here with me coin? Did you think you’d be funny and make me wait? Is that it?”
“I came as quickly as I could, Pa,” she replied calmly, aware that people were staring.
Her father’s gaze snapped down, making her feel suddenly ashamed. “What’s the meaning of this, eh?” He lunged for her, flicking at a rip in her dress that she had not noticed. “You been whoring yourself for all and sundry to try and rob me out of what’s mine? Did you think you’d make some extra coin to keep for yourself? Are you saying I don’t keep you well enough, with plenty of food in your belly and a roof over your head? You ungrateful, spiteful little trollop!”
“I would never sell myself!” Rose panted, wounded by the insult. “How dare you say that to me! I got hurt coming here, that’s why my dress is ripped.” Hot tears pricked at her eyes, her cheeks burning under the scrutiny of gathering spectators. They had come to gain a free ticket to some unexpected entertainment.
Her father grabbed at her, shoving his hands into her pockets to try and find the money she was meant to bring. In a heartbreaking way, it felt like a worse violation than what those cretins in the alley had tried to do to her. At least, to them, she was just meat. To her father, she should have been a daughter, whom he would not accuse and humiliate in the street.
“Where is it?” he bellowed drunkenly, his breath sour and rancid with whatever he had been able to afford. “Where’s me coin, Rose? Where is it?” The thread veins that spider-webbed down from his scarlet nose turned purple with rage, emphasizing the alcoholic flush that spattered across his entire face like a rash.
More people were emerging from the gambling hall, likely to find out where the ungodly screeching was coming from. No doubt, they thought it was a woman in distress, rather than a grown man and father throwing a tantrum because he could not find his drinking money in the pockets of his devastated daughter.
Furious by her father’s awful attack on her person and her character, she pushed him with all of her might. He staggered back into the wall, blinking slowly, as though he did not quite know what had happened.
“I don’t have it!” Rose shouted, done with pretending to be calm. “I told you, I was hurt on my way here. I was attacked, coming to find you, and the money thatIearned was stolen from me. Only, the thieves were not my own father, as is usually the case!”
Her father lumbered forward again. “Why, you little beast!” His arms flung wide as he tried to land a blow, but she was quicker than his drunken state. “You took it for yourself, didn’t you? Don’t give me some cock and bull story about thieves! I know you’ve got it on you somewhere, so hand it over while I’ve some patience left!”
Rose held her ground, ducking out of the way of his wildly swinging arms. “You won’t see a single penny from me, ever again. If you want money to waste in this gambling hall on cards and drink and who knows what else, then you go out, and you earn it yourself. You don’t even care that I was attacked. I might’ve relented if you’d shown some compassion, but you care about nothing but yourself!”
She was so blinded by tears of rage and hurt that she did not see his right hand skimming through the air toward her until it collided with her cheek. It hit her so hard that her neck jarred, a smarting jolt of pain ricocheting through her skull, dizzying her. A second violent smack, this time with his fist closed, followed a split-second afterward. It struck her in the same place, filling her vision with black spots, as the blow sent her crashing to the ground.
“Oi!” A voice called out, fuzzy in Rose’s ears. It was not one she recognized, and it was certainly not Lord Langston’s. He would not have used such coarse terminology.
“That’s enough of that!” a second, gruffer voice added. “You’ve caused more bother than you’re worth, Parker.”
She heard the scuff of shoes on the pavement, and her father’s grunt as someone pushed him away from her. “Clear out of here!”
Rose tried to see who spoke, as she listened to the unsteady lumber of her father’s gait and his annoyed cursing somewhere near to her left side, but she could not blink away the black spots fast enough. Nor did she think they were coming to her aid. It was more likely that they feared for the reputation of the gambling hall, which was ironic, considering it was hardly an establishment of good repute.
“Did you not hear me, Parker?” the third speaker said, his voice edged with a threat. “Clear out of here. Else I’ll call on the constables to send you on your way! You might think a little after a night in jail, eh?”
He will not leave. He’s not done with me.She could still hear him muttering somewhere, but she could not see him.
A young man stooped to help Rose to her feet, though her legs wobbled precariously as she tried to remember how to use them.
“Ye took a knock there, eh?” he said, his accent distinctly that of East London.
